


One Vanilla Frappé, Please

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Fever February [20]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Caretaking, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, Self-Indulgent, Sick Saihara Shuichi, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: It's a normal day at the coffee shop.Or, at least, it would be if he wasn't sick as a dog and trying to earn the money needed to pay his student loans.Despite his awful condition, Shuichi sure is lucky to have a bro and his girlfriend by his side no matter what.





	One Vanilla Frappé, Please

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inopportune](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11747067) by [Ironic_Swag7782](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironic_Swag7782/pseuds/Ironic_Swag7782). 



> Written for the 20th and last day prompt of Fever February, "I Can't Read the Numbers".  
> https://mugenthesickfic.tumblr.com/post/170469673461/introducing-fever-february  
> God it's done, at last, hahaha
> 
> yada yada yada another Saimatsu sickfic where Shuichi is the sick one  
> Hey, before you Naeggnog Drinkers start ranting, I write what I wanna write  
> It's short and rather self-indulgent, but does anybody mind some Saimatsu H/C sometimes? I sure don't.

He should have known better than coming to work sick, but… There he is. At work. Sick.

 

Shuichi knows for a fact he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here serving stuff to people when he has a terrible headache and probably a huge fever. But he also has two reasons why he just can’t skip work: he desperately needs the money for his student loans and the shop has a lot of customers on weekends like this one.

Kaito didn’t want him to come to work, that’s for sure: his manager is staring at him with eyes stuck between anger and worry, crossing his arms as he regularly tells him to go back to his goddamn bed. Well, it’s not that he doesn’t want: truly, if he listened to his instincts, Shuichi would already be sleeping his fever off.

 

And yet, he gave the clients his best smile because that’s just his job. He’s here to serve coffee and smile at people no matter how bad he feels. To be honest, he prefers to stay focused on his job because it makes him forget about his clothes clogging to his skin and the constant chills plaguing his body.

Sometimes, people ask him if he feels all right. It’s obvious he doesn’t, but he stills replies he’ll be fine. His body gives it away immediately: when he looked at himself in the mirror this morning, his skin was deadly pale, his reddened eyes were empty and had deep dark circles under them, his entire face was flushed, and his body hair was rising _en masse_. There was no way he could hide the fact he didn’t feel right at all: at best, he could just wear a mask over his nose and mouth and put on some makeup under his eyes, which he did.

 

One of his profs, he’d say his Foreign Literature prof, enters the shop. He forgot until then that the latter was a fellow client of the place: he comes there every morning to take his coffee before his classes start. He apparently has classes on Saturdays too but one thing’s sure: Shuichi doesn’t have classes on Saturdays, so it’s probably not a class with his course.

He gets his usual dose of “how are you” questions from an oblivious younger-than-he-would-like-to-be man, but this time around, he does notice something wrong with his student. Truly, the way Shuichi’s out of breath gives his condition away easily: he may be asthmatic, he’s usually not that desperate for oxygen.

 

“Bro,” Kaito tells him as he takes off his apron, “ya should go back home. Kaede’ll be here shortly and I’m gonna call Rantaro in so he can take ya place.”

“I’m okay, I’m just…” he rubs his eyes as a perfect way to destroy his credibility. “I’m just a bit sick, nothing too bad. You know I need that salary…”

“Yeah, I know that, but everyone keeps asking ya if ya alright! Nobody wants ya nasty virus in their latte bro! I know ya careful and all, but ya really gotta go back home and rest!”

Shuichi swoons a little but decides to stay up. He’s starting feel a bit too dizzy for this job.

“Rantaro has something very important with his sisters, I can’t disturb him because of some virus… Really, we should leave him alone… I’ll deal with it for the rest of my shift and go back to sleep…”

 

Kaito seems doubtful, staring at him with quirked eyebrows, then sighs as he sends a text. Shuichi wishes he could read the name of the contact he’s sending this to, or what the message is about, but the phone is too far from him and his vision is already swimming as it is.

“It’s not like Kaede won’t notice anythin’ either, y’know… I have to visit Maki Roll at the hospital, I’ll have to leave ya alone for a few minutes. Ya sure ya really don’t need a ride home?”

“I’m sure. Please tell Maki I wish her a sound recovery from her appendicitis.”

“Will do! Good luck, bro, and don’t hesitate to go back home if ya really don’t feel good, ‘kay?”

“I’ll do that…”

 

The shop’s activity considerably slows down between two and four in the afternoon. It’s the ideal time for him to take it easy and, most of all, treat to himself for a bit: he grabs the fever reducers hidden in his apron’s pouch, serves himself a coffee (his third of the day, if he’s not mistaken) and gulps down the medicine with his cup of the steaming black liquid.

Usually, Shuichi would have tried cleaning some stuff around while customers didn’t come in, but he feels way too tired to do that. Instead, he decides to sit down on a stool behind the counter and rest for a bit.

 

While nobody is here, he takes the chance to cough a lung out. He’s been keeping that fit inside for an hour or so by now, it’s only natural of him to finally make that urge exit his system by the only true way he can think of. His chest hurts as if knives teased to stab it from the inside. He’s now sure he has something akin to a bronchitis because God does it starts to hurt in there.

For a while, things seem to calm down, until he feels one particularly violent wave of chills going down his spine. There is a disgusting, strong surge of sweat flowing down his back. It can’t mean much other than him having a fever spike. This isn’t the moment for that, goddammit! Kaede isn’t here yet!

His breathing gets faster and faster as in an attempt to make his condition feel any better than absolute hell. He’s trapped behind the counter, on a chair, because he’ll only fall, if not faint, if he gets up from it. He’s lucky there isn’t a single customer right now, otherwise he’d be beyond screwed. As such, he just hopes for the best and for Kaede to come in soon. His reducers haven’t kicked in yet, but he sure knows he’s not doing well.

 

His phone vibrates in his pants’ pocket. Shuichi, desperately trying to find something to divert his attention from how bad he’s feeling, takes it out with a shaking hand and looks at the screen… only to notice he can’t even read it. It’s all a juggled mess of pixels.

He realizes how bad this is when, no matter how much he rubs his eyes, the blur stays. This isn’t the LSD screen’s fault: it’s his eyes. They’re unfocused and can’t seem to be able to focus anymore. In fact, he can barely see in front of him. Yet, he gets to reach the thermometer he’s buried inside his bag: perhaps, just perhaps he’ll be able to make out the number on it if he stares at it for long enough.

 

He hears the entrance’s doorbell ring. Fuck. There’s a customer at the worst moment possible. He gets up from the chair as soon as possible, not caring about the blood rushing to his ears (or, at least, ignoring the discomfort of such a thing as much as possible). He knows the pumps and drawers by heart: he can do this until Kaede arrives and before he can at least go lie down in the staff room.

Shuichi can’t distinguish anything on the customer’s face – at that point it could even be an animal and he wouldn’t know the difference – but the voice makes it clear: they’re a woman with a gentle, muffled voice.

 

“One medium vanilla frappe, please,” she orders.

“Consider it done…”

He clumsily tries to reach the ice and vanilla ice to make her the drink she’s wanting, but all he ends up doing is finding the actual coffee instead. He tries again, finds the plastic cups and the ice. He smiles a little because this is his special someone’s favourite drink: in fact, it was one of the things he learnt before their first date.

 

In the end, someone else comes behind him and finishes the drink for him… before drinking it themselves. He recognizes this apron and this method of stealing a drink from his hands: it’s Kaede who has finally arrived. He wishes he could distinguish the expression of her face more clearly than “she doesn’t look happy, I guess?”.

“God, Kaito was right! You’re completely out of it!” she exclaims, a hand on her hip and the other sipping on her frappe. “You didn’t even recognize a workmate!”

“S-sorry… I’m…” he rubs his eyes again. “A bit tired…”

“Yeah, sure, like I’ll believe you. Go lie down, I’ll take care of the orders.”

“My shift hasn’t ended yet, though…”

 

Shuichi knows very well that, at that point, whatever he’ll tell her will be useless: she just doesn’t care about his weak lies because she sees right through them. Everyone could right this moment, really, but Kaede can read in him like in an open picture book. That’s why he trusts her: she knows what he feels like, so she always tells him what she feels like when he can’t guess it by himself.

But he also knows she hates his little white lies, especially when she can completely see how bad they truly are. She hates it when he doesn’t admit to feeling ill because it happens so frequently: honestly, his health is terrible and he knows it, so he just likes to brush everything under the rug with little to no success.

 

He can barely tumble back to his chair, so he just sits down there as to wait for the time he’ll feel better. The reducers still haven’t kicked in: he’s probably too far gone. He’ll have to resort to something else to feel better and not completely crumble away at his workplace.

He goes to get the thermometer from the bag he left next to the chair and in the back of counter area. He can barely see Kaede move around as she prepares herself for her own shift. Alone. She should call Rantaro if she needs help, because he clearly won’t be able to do anything better than spill coffee on the ground and maybe himself with it.

 

As such, he inserts the thermometer in his mouth and waits, for a very short amount of time, for it to beep. He looks at it, stares into the small screen, but he can’t read the numbers. It’s all a mess. Rubbing anything won’t save him: in fact, his vision swims so badly he has no hope of ever knowing what it’s about. As such, he just calls for her with a timid voice. She can read it.

“Kaede…? Can I ask you something…?”

 

He guesses she turns to him because there is a noticeable pink blur in his field of vision now.

“What’s wrong?” she asks back.

“Can you read the number on there for me…?” he says as he shows her the thermometer in his hands. “I can’t read it…”

A short silence follows. He hears something falling to the ground.

“Oh God.”

 

Kaede rushes to him and takes the small stick of plastic in her hands. She gasps.

“Shuichi, your fever…! It’s over forty degrees!”

She puts a hand on his forehead, making a notice of how hot it is under her fingers and under his skin.

“I’m calling you an ambulance, you can’t stay at work like that! Why haven’t you told me anything about it?”

“You have a shift and you need money… I couldn’t prevent you from being here…”

She leaves a kiss on his forehead as her phone makes a dial sound. He’s that close to passing out.

“Oh, I’ve told you before to take care of yourself first… Relax now, I’m calling help, you’ll feel better soon…”

He gives her the smallest smile before everything turns black.

 

* * *

 

 

When he comes to, Shuichi definitely sees clearer than he did before. That’s a good thing. He also recognizes he’s nowhere near his workplace nor his flat: he has to be at the hospital. Great, he truly needed to be in there for a couple days. This isn’t even sarcasm: he needed someone to bring his ass in a place where his health would actually get taken care of.

At his side, a visibly relieved Kaede. She’s holding his hand: the small squeeze she gives it when she realizes he’s opened her eyes is warm and makes him feel better. She’s here, by this side, even if he essentially worried her beyond her reason.

 

“You scared us so much…” she whispers as she leaves a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sick, though, you shouldn’t be kissing me…”

“Who cares! I’m never sick anyway. The doctors have told me it’s not contagious,” she winks.

“And, your shift…?”

“It ended an hour ago. Rantaro and Kaito were watching over you before I arrived. Don’t worry for me.”

 

Kaede sighs, then pouts. She doesn’t cross her arms: instead, she puts a second hand on his.

“I’ve told you to be careful, geez! You never listen to any of us when it’s about your well-being…”

Her eyes soften. Her glaze is comparable to an angel’s in his eyes.

“But I’ll take care of you anyway. I know you’re easily sick and it’s okay, but don’t overdo it, okay? You work hard already.”

 

He’ll never get enough of her warm kisses on his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> I THOUGHT THE "SICK SAIHARA SHUICHI" TAG WAS A SPREADSHEET* CRYPTID NOT AN ACTUAL CANONICAL  
> I DIDN'T EVEN MAKE IT REACH RULE OF 3
> 
> *reference to my position as a DR tag wrangler


End file.
